


Broken Little Family

by Prehensilizing



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Dadvid Appreciation Week, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Trans David, Trans Male Character, dadvid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prehensilizing/pseuds/Prehensilizing
Summary: After fighting at school, Max comes home to a very disappointed parent.Maybe David doesn't always understand Max's way of saying he cares.Dadvid AU. Post-series. (T/W one transgender slur.)





	Broken Little Family

* * *

 

            “I’m _very_ disappointed in you, Max.”

            “What?” Max spluttered in disbelief. “You can’t just take his side! You don’t even know what he fucking _said-“_

            “Max-“

            “David, he called you-“

            “I don’t _care_ what he said,” David affirmed, gently dabbing the side of Max’s mouth with a warm, wet cloth. It came away spotted red. “Now, I’m sorry you got hurt, but you can’t keep getting into fights, kiddo. Did you at least report it to the principal?”  

            “David!” Max swatted away his guardian’s hand. “You’re not listening. He called you-“

            “Max.”

            “God _damn_ it David, he called you a fucking _tranny_. Am I supposed to just live with that? Huh?”

            Max was very close from this angle. He ripped the soft cloth from David’s fingers, tossing it to the floor. Gauntlet thrown.

            The tall, lanky man knelt before the eleven-year-old, temporarily shocked into silence. He blinked, stunned.

            “Can’t you appreciate for one second, that just maybe, I _might_ be standing up for you?”

            David watched helplessly as his adopted son stormed angrily from the room, face bloodied and swollen.

            “Oh, Max,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

            “Hey bud,” David whispered, tapping the doorframe. “You awake?”

            “No,” growled a voice from under the covers.

            David crossed the room quietly, not bothering to turn on the light. He sat delicately upon the edge of the mattress. He placed a hand on Max’s hair, the only part of the boy that had surfaced from a sea of sheets.

            “Max... I just want to tell you... I’m so lucky to have you as my son.” It was quiet for a long time before David continued. “Don’t ever think, even for a second, that I don’t appreciate what you do for me every day.”

            David’s fingers lingered on the dark curls. The boy was very warm. David leaned forward, pressing his lips to the crown of Max’s head. Max held perfectly still.

            “Sweet dreams, kiddo,” David whispered. He stood and exited the room, closing the door with a whoosh of carpet and a click.  

 

* * *

 

            “Max? What are you still doing up? It’s one in the morning.”

            Max shuffled into the room, hands buried deep in the pockets of his favorite worn blue hoodie. His mouth had stopped swelling, though his lower lip sported a nasty scab. David frowned.

            “Do you need something for the pain?”

            “I had a hunch you’d be in here feeling sorry for yourself,” Max deflected. “And look – I was right.”

            David sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his wrist. He remained curled into a tight ball on his perch upon the living room couch, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. In his other hand, he clutched an old Polaroid.

            “You should go back to bed,” he said to the floor, without much conviction.

            “What’ve you got there?” Max asked, instantly zeroing in on the old photograph. He plucked it deftly from David’s fingers.

            “Max! Give that back.”

            “No.”

            “Ugh... Max...” Too tired to fight, David dragged a hand down his tired face. His head dropped to his knees.

            Confident in his victory, Max squinted at the smudged image, making out three figures. He held the square of film to the table lamp, casting more light onto it. In the photo, a young red-kneed, red-haired girl scowled at the camera. Her skirt was on backward. A man and a woman stood to either side, smiling coolly as if the photographer had commanded it.

            The girl couldn’t have been more than Max’s own age. Comprehension dawned on Max.

            “David... is that you?”

            David shrugged without looking up.

            “Are these your parents?” Max prompted.

            “Yeah,” David mumbled into his knees. Max scrutinized his guardian.

            “Do you still talk to them?”

            “...no.”

            “Sorry,” Max offered quietly. He shifted his weight awkwardly.

            After a long moment, he placed the photo back into David’s limp hand, careful not to smudge the image with his fingers. David looked up, surprised. He glanced at the image before meeting his son’s eyes.

            “It’s okay, Max. Well - it’s not okay to take people’s things without asking. But it’s okay that I don’t talk to my parents. I still have a family!” He gave Max a watery smile.

            “Yeesh.” Max pretended to gag. “Uh... you do mean me, right?”

            “Only if you’ll have me, Max.”

            “You fucking moron,” Max exclaimed.

            David hiccupped a sob. Sometimes, it’s hard to be optimistic.

            With a long, put-upon sigh, Max took David’s hands onto his own, noting the twin scars in each palm where Nurf had shanked him during camp. It reminded him of crucifixion – David the Martyr. He’d die for his camp kids.

            “Of course I’m your family, you big sap.”

            David sobbed with relief. Max gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

            “Now, you gonna go the fuck back to bed?”

            “Language,” David hiccupped, “Max.”

           

* * *

  

            “Morning, Dad,” Max yawned.

            “Gooood morning, Max!” David tripped over his own feet as a sudden realization hit him. He caught himself on the doorframe, narrowly avoiding a faceplant. “Wait. Did you just call me-“

            “ _Do not_ read into this!”

            “Oh, Max!”

            “Oh god, please don’t hug-“  

 

* * *

 


End file.
